


Flirt Off

by theianitor



Series: Motorsports Open Grid [1]
Category: Formula 1 RPF, GP2 Series RPF
Genre: Bets & Wagers, Drinking, M/M, Mentions others, Pick-Up Lines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-19 08:46:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20206966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theianitor/pseuds/theianitor
Summary: Mitch is tired of stupid smug GP2 rookie James Hunt and his winning ways.





	Flirt Off

**Author's Note:**

> This was absolutely hilarious to write tbh. They both have a very confident (to not say cocky) vibe about them, and racers want to be winners, let's face it. Also, imagining a young James Hunt dealing with the semi-current grid? Lovely. XD

“Fancy a wager, Evans?”

Mitch rolled his eyes. He’d been hoping to _not_ have to deal with Hunt and their silly bets tonight. Then again, of course the British bastard would come to gloat. Mitch would have too, he supposed. He fought a sarcastic grin onto his face and turned around.

“Sure, Hunt. I’ll bet you everything I’ve got on me that you can’t shut up for fifteen minutes.”

He was met by the smiling face of James Hunt, the annoying ass who had just won his first GP2 race and was set to become rookie of the year. Someone had given him a sparkly diadem to hold his flowing blonde hair back. Someone, probably James himself, had also put a big red plastic flower behind his ear. He swayed slightly but looked perfectly confident as he clapped a hand down on Mitch’s shoulder. Despite them being the same age, it made Mitch feel like a kid.

“Everything you’ve got on you? I would _love_ to see you out of those pants, Evans...”

Mitch pushed his hand off and glared at him. James was good to party with, sure, but that was when they’d both had good races. Mitch’s race had sucked quite spectacularly, and he wasn’t in the mood for James’ shenanigans. He couldn’t even seem to get drunk enough to forget about things tonight.

“What do you want, Hunt?”

“I told you, I want to make a bet. I’m in the mood for more winning.”

“What’s the bet then?” Mitch sighed. If he could play along, he could get rid of Hunt and go back to his hotel and start focusing on the next race. Their partying sometimes led to them daring each other to do things, usually taking increasingly horrible shots, but tonight he doubted even James doubled over and insisting he wasn’t going to be sick would cheer him up.

“I bet you fifty... no, a hundred... that you can’t get your lovely teammate to open his door for you tonight.”

Mitch glanced towards the bar, where Artem and Sergey were laughing, clearly comfortable with a few drinks in them and their shared native tongue. It shouldn’t be that much of an issue... and if he bent the rules a little, Hunt had only technically said to get into Artem’s room. He was not above bending the rules to get one over on Hunt.

“You up for double or nothing?”

James shrugged. Of course he was, Mitch thought. The smug bastard probably couldn’t say no to a bet or a dare.

“Five hundred,” he said, and was pleased when James blinked in surprise.

“I’m no expert in maths, Evans, but that’s not double...”

“Five hundred, if you get Artem before I do.” It was an insane thing to say, but the alcohol must finally have gotten to his brain. Mitch grinned at the stunned look on James’ face.

“Not up to it, Hunt?”

“Oh no, I’m up for it alright,” James said, his grin matching Mitch’s and throwing him a little off balance. “I just wasn’t prepared for you wanting to lose to me twice in one day...”

Mitch wasn’t sure exactly how it happened, but he lost. When he saw James take the flower from behind his ear and bop Artem softly on the nose with it, and the Russian just laughed... he knew he had lost. The morning after he still didn’t know what felt worse; the smug smile James had sent him over Artem’s shoulder as they left the bar together, the headache from the alcohol, or having his pickup game ragged on like that.

The next weekend he was ready. An okay-ish race for both of them meant more equal footing, and since he had been thinking about it since the last race, he had come prepared. He had been dropping casual compliments most of the week, and had posted a few strategic selfies from his exercise routine to see who would comment. Sadly, about the same guys who liked his abs also were very commiserative of James’ selfie from doing testing in the rain. Mitch grudgingly admitted James looked pretty loveable with his hair dripping wet and a sad, puppy-eyed look on his face.

Suggesting the wager went fine. James snickered and said that this time, Mitch could pick the target for the evening. He pretended to think it over for a minute before deciding.

“Ace,” he said with a confident smile.

“I’m honestly surprised, Evans. I figured you’d go for someone from closer to down under. Alex has class.”

“And you still think you can beat me to it?” Mitch and Alex went way back, Ace wouldn’t turn him down for an evening spent in bed. Or on the couch. Or on the floor, really.

“Of course,” James scoffed. “All you have to do to get the classy ones is show them the benefits of slumming it a little. And as you’ve already done that...”

Before Mitch could think of something to say back, James was making his way over to the bar.

This time Mitch stayed close by. He had to know what the secret was. James’ reputation almost matched his, and he needed to know if he was missing something. Not that bed partners were in short supply, but fine-tuning your techniques never hurt.

It sounded like a mix of confidence and flattery; Alex had been in GP2 longer than James and was a year older. James made it sound like he looked up to Ace, and between the beers, the flattery, and the overabundance of British slang that kept getting worse and worse, Mitch got the feeling Ace was about to show James a good time.

That wasn’t what surprised him most though. No, that was the subtle twinge of jealousy. This smooth-talking bastard had his hands all over Ace, and all Mitch could think was “fuck Ace, what about _me?_” He was so stunned he forgot the wager altogether, and when James and Ace mysteriously disappeared somewhere between the bar and the men’s room he left, his thoughts not occupied by _them_ but by _him_.

Between races he tried to make a plan. Every idea he had had flaws though. He shouldn’t need to get James drunk. He didn’t exactly want to flatter him. Just stating that he thought they ought to get carnally acquainted wouldn’t do; James might laugh at him and he didn’t think his ego could stand that. When he finally thought of it, in the middle of a workout, it was so obvious he almost dropped his weights.

“You don’t give up, do you?” James greeted with an annoying smile before Mitch had even said anything.

“Winners never quit,” Mitch grinned.

“But you haven’t won once yet, Mitch,” James grinned back.

“This time, I won’t lose.”

“Don’t you sound ever-so sure of yourself?”

“I bet you can’t get _me._” Mitch felt triumphant, crossing his arms and looking at James, who was still just smiling at him.

“Well I’ll give it a go,” James said with a shrug, turning and heading for the bar. Mitch deflated. What the hell did that even mean?! His confidence ebbed away instantly.

“You’ll ‘give it a go’?” he said, coming up behind James. “What do you mean you’ll ‘give it a go’?”

James didn’t acknowledge him but waited for his drinks. Two glasses of something pink, with lemon slices and lots of ice cubes, were set in front of him. He turned and gave one glass to Mitch, who was tempted to just throw it back at him.

“Cheers,” he said unconcernedly, and took a sip. Mitch could only watch. “Now, what I meant...” he smacked his lips appreciatively and set his glass down on the bar. Before Mitch knew it, the Brit was almost pushed right up against him, his hand down between them and hidden from view but _very much_ on top of Mitch’s crotch.

“What I meant was I was starting to think you’d never ask,” James hissed in his ear. “You are an absolute _catch_, Evans, and if we’re good on our own, just _imagine_ the possibilities of us working together? With my charms and your...” he looked Mitch up and down, brazenly undressing him with his eyes and Mitch only just kept from squirming under his gaze.

“Your... you,” James concluded, “these other lads wouldn’t know what hit them. But first I’d love to have you to myself for a bit, so I can see if you live up to your name.”

“Oh yeah?” Mitch’s voice broke, which made his words slightly less tough than he had intended. “What about you, do you live up to yours?”

“I can assure you that I do,” James winked. “Finish your drink, and let me show you.”

Mitch gulped the pink drink down so quickly some of it spilled down his chin. He hiccuped once and nodded. It wasn’t until they were leaving that he realized he’d lost again. Oh well. With a handsome British driver unbuttoning his shirt in the elevator up to his room, he could make peace with that.

\- The End -

**Author's Note:**

> All in good fun, as per usual! :)  
Thanks for the read! <3


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